


The Sexiest

by TheMightyChipmunk



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Oblivious Grantaire, Piningjolras
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-06
Updated: 2014-04-06
Packaged: 2018-01-18 08:14:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1421089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMightyChipmunk/pseuds/TheMightyChipmunk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The one where Grantaire is an idiot and everyone knows it. Especially the triumvirate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Sexiest

                “Grantaire,” Courfeyrac said, pulling up a chair to sit across from him, “I think we need to talk about you and Enjolras.”

                “What about me and Enjolras?” Grantaire asked as he took another sip of his beer, “I thought we were better this meeting, less arguing and whatnot.” _Well that was just entirely untrue_ , but Courfeyrac decided to ignore it. He had his friend’s best interest in mind here.

                “No. That’s not it, Grantaire. I just want to let you know that if you ever want to talk about… you know…” Grantaire stared at him, a little confused.

                “Do I know?” he asked, narrowing his eyes slightly. For a second Courf thought that he was just deflecting, trying to drop hints that he didn’t want to talk about Enjolras, but he actually did seem to be curious. Courfeyrac ran his hand through his hair, looking longingly at Jehan sitting a few tables away and groaned internally. The faster he got this over with the faster he could go sit with Jehan and Bahorel. He really didn’t want to have to suffer through Grantaire yelling at him for being intrusive or whatever, but Enjolras had been crying at his apartment for hours last night over his realization he was in love with the cynic. So Courf had to do something. For Enjolras.

                “Stop being an asshole, R. I know you’re in love with Enjolras and he-”

                “Wait, _what_?” Grantaire interrupted him with a genuinely incredulous look on his face. He set down his beer dramatically and leaned forward as he waved his hands emphatically. Courf just raised an eyebrow, “I am not in love with Enjolras!” He said it loudly so Courf shushed him and swiveled around to check on Enjolras and Combeferre who were sitting not too far away at the bar. Luckily they were engaged in a different conversation so Enjolras didn’t hear Grantaire being an insensitive jerk. Courfeyrac looked back at Grantaire with an exasperated face and took a big drink from his beer.

                “You’re fucking kidding me, right?”

                “No!” Grantaire responded and he seemed to genuinely believe what he was saying, “He’s an optimist, and an idealist. He’s naïve and ignorant. Jesus, Courf, there is no one in the world that can make me angrier than Apollo and… in love? How could I be in love with him? He’s argumentative and _impassioned_ and he carries around that stupid sense of self-righteousness and self-confidence. Damn, he makes me want to punch someone in the face! That does not equate to love, in anybody’s book. Well, except maybe Kirk and Spock… Anyway, me and Enjolras are not Kirk and Spock.” he was definitely speaking louder now and Courfeyrac had honestly never been more convinced that R was in love, “And that’s just the political with stuff! Did you know he listens to _classical music,_ Courf?” Courfeyrac just nodded; of course he knew that, “ _Classical_ music, like Bach and Strauss and Berlioz and shit. God, he’s so pretentious… he’s never had to work for a fucking thing in his life, you know? He fights _so fucking_ passionately for the poor and yet he lives off his trust fund! Like how does he find that kind of energy? Because there’s also the food thing. Like why the _fuck_ does he never eat? Is it just because he’s completely inept at cooking? Because Jesus Christ, if that’s the reason than _I’ll_ teach him. I mean, it’s just a health thing when you get down to it. He’s such an idiot sometimes.” Grantaire paused to drink his beer and Courf risked a glance over his shoulder to see if Enjolras had noticed yet; he had and unfortunately so had Combeferre, who looked like he was about to walk over and murder R.

             “That’s probably why he’s so skinny. _Oh_ , and he does yoga! Like, wow, that’s just the worst. And he sings which… okay, actually he sings really well. I can’t make fun of him for that. His rendition of _The A Team_ gave me chills… Hmm, another reason I could never be in love with him: the asshole can’t hold his liquor. I swear, give him two light beers and he’s gone for the night, it’s pathetic.” He said with a laugh and Enjolras was flushing scarlet at the counter. Courfeyrac wanted to clamp a hand over Grantaire’s mouth but the idiot just kept going, “There’s also the pet thing. He’s obsessed with bunnies, did you know that? Like, he _coos_ at them, Courfeyrac. But he refuses to get one because he thinks he’s incapable of taking care of one on his own.”

              Okay that was just sad; how drunk was Grantaire? “And he can’t go on rollercoasters, because he’s afraid of heights. I love rollercoasters, what would we do at amusement parks together? And there’s also the art thing, _good God_ that kid is hopeless with a paintbrush. It balances out though, because he’s so freaking _drawable_ , with the fucking obnoxiously perfect cheekbones and the pretty blue eyes and-” he stopped talking, bottle of beer half way to his lips when he looked up and towards the bar where Enjolras was sitting. Said blonde had now launched himself more fully into his conversation with ‘Ferre, probably to try and block out the incessant rambling Grantaire had launched himself into.

                “Oh _shit_.” He muttered, running a hand through his curls. Courfeyrac just laughed and clapped him on the back before standing up.

                “You’re a fucking idiot, Grantaire.” He said before finally walking away and sitting with his boyfriend, kissing him on the cheek.

                “I have the best taste in guys.” Courf said and Jehan smiled and leaned his head on his shoulder.

                “Yes you do, my love.”

                “Shit, fucking _shit_.” Back to Grantaire, who was sitting at the table staring at Enjolras, not knowing what to do. Eventually he steeled up all his minimal amounts of courage and launched himself up to walk towards the bar.

                “Oh my God it’s happening,” Courfeyrac elbowed Jehan incessantly, even though he was already watching Grantaire walk over.

                “Splendid, I’ll make reservations for us all at the cottage, shall I?” Jehan asked, quietly linking his arm around Courfeyrac’s in an attempt to still his excitement.

                They watched unsubtly. Grantaire was standing behind Enjolras at the bar, clearly speaking based on the frantic hand movements, but Enjolras seemed to be taking Grantaire’s previous ravings quite seriously, as he now appeared to be imitating the marble statue he had so often been compared to, refusing to turn around. Grantaire at this point, however, realized the bar stools spun, and used this to whirl Enjolras around.

“Oh, good move,” Jehan commented, “Very take charge, Enjolras will appreciate that.”

“Hmmm, I don’t know,” Courfeyrac replied, “It’s all about consent with Enjolras. Combeferre doesn’t seem too pleased either, if those death stares are any indication.”

“My God,” Jehan leaned in closer to Courfeyrac in only partially mock terror, “I have never seen that look in a man’s eye before.”

“Stronger men than Grantaire have died from looks like that, Jehan. I would know. That’s why we don’t see Claquesous around anymore.”

Grantaire must have said something either extremely passionate or stupid, because Enjolras leaned forward and began to speak to Grantaire, and Combeferre’s face clouded even more.

“Ok, he has to be messing with Grantaire, right? Just being the stereotypical supportive best friend? Because if not, what the hell? Why doesn’t he want them to be a thing? We’re supposed to be a united front, dammit.” Courfeyrac whined to Jehan.

“Ooooh, look look look,” Jehan pointed to Enjolras as he looked to Combeferre for backup on some point he had made. Combeferre face immediately shifted to one of support and understanding and Courfeyrac almost burst out laughing. He didn’t though, because he didn’t want to interrupt the show.

“Combeferre is just a total cock-block.” Bahorel said, finally looking up from his phone, on which he was texting his girlfriend. Well, Courfeyrac says texting but in all honesty he was probably sexting.

“Well he _is_ Enjolras' best friend.” Jehan said, playing Devil’s advocate as usual, “And Grantaire was being a major asshole just two minutes ago. You can’t really blame him for not trusting the whole situation. He didn’t see Grantaire’s face when he realized what a fool he was being.” Jehan chuckled and rolled his eyes before downing the rest of his whiskey.

“Love makes fools of all of us.”

“People do crazy things… when they’re in love.”

“Love’s got him lookin’ so crazy right now.”

“Whoa! Holy shit! Get it R!” Bahorel hollered after Grantaire threw his hands up on frustration at Enjolras’ stubbornness and just wrapped his arms around him and pulled him in for a kiss. Even Courf was slightly impressed by his romantic fervor. The two of them kept kissing for a good long moment. So long, in fact, that Combeferre eventually walked away with a roll of his eyes and a small smile. Courf eventually began to wolf-whistle and Jehan was cooing like crazy. And then they just kept going, getting really into it and everyone was really uncomfortable because it was sort of hot (which made no sense, because ask Courfeyrac any other day and Enjolras was what he thought about when he wanted to be anti-turned-on. Like it went grandma, road kill, grasshoppers, and Enjolras. These are all inherently un-hot things). It was when Enjolras hands began pulling up slightly at the hem of Grantaire’s shirt that Bahorel screamed.

“Heyo! Lover boys! Keep it in your fucking pants! There are children here!” he gestured to Courf and Jehan. The latter blushed and smiled and the former glared at Bahorel as Enjolras and Grantaire, slightly embarrassed, untangled themselves from each other.

“Sorry about that.” Enjolras’ blush was bright red.

“I’m not.” Grantaire smirked and pulled Enjolras flush against him once more.

“Children?” Courf asked angrily, still glaring at ‘Rel, “Really, Bahorel? Do children do this? Jehan, passionately devour me with your lips!”

“What?”

“KISS ME!” He said as he tangled his hair in Jehan’s and tugged him forwards. The poet just laughed and pushed him back with a hand on his chest.

“What? Why?”

“I wanna beat them!” Courfeyrac whined, “We’re _so much sexier_ and we’re not children!”

“Aww, Courf, we are much sexier than them, I promise,” he said it sweetly, as if he were talking to a five-year-old, “We don’t have to engage in PDA to prove it, lovely.” Jehan rested his forehead against Courf’s intimately but he spoke loud enough so that everyone could hear him and that made Courf smirk.

“You hear that? WE’RE THE SEXIEST!” Courf yelled, but by the time he turned away from Jehan, R and Enjolras were already at it again in a booth in the back of the room.

**Author's Note:**

> BTW, it was Bahorel referencing Beyonce, if anyone was wondering.


End file.
